I used that line in 3rd grade too

So tonight, when we pick up my fifth grader from a friend’s house, she’s already eaten dinner and is on to ice cream. “It’s not fair!” says my third grader. “Why does she get ice cream and I don’t?”

The answer that comes from my mouth is one I’ve never used before, but one my mom used on me all the time. So, in a channeling mood, I say, “No one ever said life was going to be fair.” I always hated that line. I suspect she hated it too. And I suspect I could spend an entire blog post analyzing the pros and cons of using that line. This is not that post.

So when we get home, my third grader asks if she can have ice cream tonight too. But there’s a fifth grade open house to attend, so I give her my standard answer: It depends.

“On what?”

“Timing and behavior.”

“And can we have some screen time?”

“Well, even if you’ve got your chores done”–she nods her head indicating she has–“I’m pretty sure we won’t have time for that. But again, it depends.”

“On what?”

“Timing and behavior.”

OK then.

We head to the open house, see what there is to see (including cool art, cool robots, and a sex ed curriculum thrust into my hands by a blushing teacher), and we head home. During the car ride some tears squeak out of my third grader over something so ridiculous it’s laughable–a sure sign that she is physically tired, emotionally exhausted, and totally spent. But upon our arrival home, she hops up on the counter, crosses her legs, and asks sweetly, “Well? Can we watch a show?”

“What time is it?”

“7:50.”

“Nope. Too late.”

The tears begin to leak.

“Well, can I at least have ice cream?” (said with tears in the squeaky-leakiest voice ever).

“I’m thinking . . . no.”

“WHY NOT?!”

“Why do you think?”

“BECAUSE I’M CRYING???”

I nod with a sad face.

Tears, whines, pleading, “WHY CAN’T WE HAVE A DO-OVER?!” and more pleading, whines, tears. When she gets sent up to her room after yelling at me, she wails on her way up the stairs, “OH, I’M SUCH AN IDIOT!”

And that’s when a part of my heart leaps thinking, Oh! She gets that she made a mistake! and another heart-part leaps, Oh! I don’t want her thinking she’s an idiot!, and the whole heart of me melts in a gooey mush. I even consider following her up the stairs, not to cave, mind you, but to offer empathy.

And just then, my fifth grader, sitting hitherto silently in an easy chair, swivels around with her hands folded like an evil genius and says, “I used that line when I was in third grade, too.”

“Really?” I say. Though, of course, I remember. The I’m so stupid and I’m such an idiot line has always tugged at me.

“Yeah,” she says thoughtfully. “It seems like one that would work.”

I almost crack a smile. “Why? What do you imagine the effect would be?”

“Oh, you know. Make you feel bad for me. You don’t want your daughter calling herself stupid. All that.”

I try to keep my face expressionless. “And, so . . . how did that work out for you?” I cross my fingers for my younger self.

She shrugs. “It never worked. At least not on you.”

I hold her gaze, barely daring to breathe lest my sigh of relief come out audibly. Plus I’m astounded at the transparency of this moment, this honest revelation, this precious insider information.

“But there are some parents that kind of stuff works great on,” she continues. “Like just the other day, my friend’s little sister hollered, ‘MOM, SHE WON’T LET ME SEE THE BRACELET!’ Her mom said, ‘You better give it to her, honey, otherwise she won’t stop crying.’ And so she did.”

“Wow. So the mom practically trained the kid to holler to get what she wants?”

“Yeah. Or maybe the kid trained the mom.” She laughs and swivels back around.

Only hours later does it occur to me that, “It never worked. At least not on you,” is the line my daughter used in fifth grade. To great effect.